The Fight of Her Life
by hippie-girl 31
Summary: Basically just a one-shot about Djaq in the middle of an important battle. No fluff, no spoilers, just my first attempt at action. Maybe slight Djaq/Allan if you squint.


_**Just a one-shot about Djaq in the middle of an important battle. No fluff, no angst, just my first attempt at action. I hope you enjoy it. I like reviews, but they are, of course, not required.**_

She raised her sword once again, sweat dripping from her hair into her eyes. She was growing tired and her arm was drooping as her weapon was becoming heavier in her hand, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. She would show no weakness. She would allow him no advantage.

So she raised the hilt even higher and relished the slight rejuvenation that surged through her as she caught a glimpse of the polished metal gleaming and twinkling in the now fading sunlight. She had always felt so powerful with a sword in her hand.

The two of them had been locked in combat for quite a while. In the beginning, there had been a steady stream of threats and barbs accompanying each thrust of metal. But the verbal exchange had died away some time ago.

Both were weary now and one of them was bound to give in to fatigue and slip up eventually. It was inevitable. In a battle, someone had to lose. She was starting to fear that she could not hold her ground for much longer.

She was relieved that her friends were not present to witness this. That would only make it more difficult for her to focus. And focus she _must_. So she tried to block out all thoughts of what would happen if this did not go her way...of the looks on their faces when they heard that she had been defeated. She tried hard not to picture their reactions, sitting around the camp, occupying themselves as usual, when the news was delivered.

No. This would not do. She must put _all_ of her thoughts and energy into defeating the man in front of her. He was all that stood between her and victory. Between her and the life she so desperately wanted to live. A life in the forest, with her lads. Fighting for a worthy cause and being trusted and respected by the men whose opinions meant so much to her.

It was just the other day when she had overheard Much saying to someone that she did quite well in battle, considering she was a girl. She had not realized that the gang still thought of her that way. As a child playing at a man's game. Trying to keep up.

She wanted and needed so badly to prove to them and herself that she could handle things on her own. She needed them to be confident in her abilities. Okay, so maybe picking a fight in the middle of a deserted clearing was not the best way of going about it. Especially as she had not really considered, at the start of the conflict, that she might lose.

No. She would carry on. She had to. She would _never_ give up. It was not in her nature. She was a survivor. She always remained standing even when those around her crumbled and fell. She would go down fighting if she had to go down at all. She could feel that the end was drawing near for one of them.

Ordinarily it would have occurred much sooner, but, surprisingly, she and her opponent were fairly evenly matched in skill and fighting style. This frustrated Djaq as she pondered, not for the first time since drawing her weapon that afternoon, the possibility that she may not be victorious today.

Her breathing had become labored and ragged and she had almost lost her footing twice. She tried with all of her might to quell her doubts and hoped that she could steady her body in the process. She could not allow him to get the upper hand. She had to maintain control.

_Block. Duck. Swing. Swish as her blade danced through the air. Up. Back. Around. Swing. _The clash and clang of metal meeting metal rang in her ears like music. This was what she loved. She was a warrior. The taste of sweat and the smell of fear pounded into her senses, drowning out everything else.

And then, for the first time, she saw her opening. The man raised his sword and she saw the slight tilt of the blade, indicating to her that he intended to, swiftly and without warning, bring it down and swing it to his right. Thereby catching her off guard and disarming her.

She pretended to be unaware, biding her time. Excitement rumbled deep in her belly. Then, as her opponent quickly shifted position, Djaq drew her weapon to the side and knocked his sword to the ground where it landed with barely a thud.

She felt her heart pumping harder and faster as she moved in for the kill. She felt her body fill with all of the pent up fury of the past few hours..._hell_, the past few _years_. She had needed this triumph so badly and now here it was, within her grasp.

Her lungs expanded and she released the primal battle cry that had been her signature throughout every fight since childhood. It came out in an ear-piercing scream that echoed through the forest as she pounced, unceremoniously, on her now panting and frightened opponent.

He fell backwards onto the ground as she landed on top of him, pinning him with her knees and elbows. She then slid her weapon up to his throat, resting the sharpened edge just below his jaw bone.

He had a look in his eyes that she remembered from her days as a soldier, fighting on the sandy battle fields of her homeland. A look that spoke of more than fear...it cried of shattered ego and broken will, and she savored the sight of it. He had been defeated and he knew it.

But she felt no pity. She owned the world and everything in it. Her fierce determination and superior skill had paid off. She had come back from the brink of near extinction to reclaim her life and herself. No one would doubt her abilities again.

"Christ, Djaq. You're like a wild animal. You win, alright? Now get off me."

She stood and reached her hand down to help her friend up. "Ha! I told you that I would beat you. And _you_ wanted to hold back. Foolish man."

He accepted her hand rather grudgingly, pulling himself up and brushing himself off, and then watched as she practically skipped back to camp, no doubt to tell the tale of their fight and her victory.

He was sore, exhausted, and more than a little embarrassed, but he had seen the look of deep satisfaction in her eyes as she had delivered that final blow. He knew that she had needed this more than he had realized.

It was not easy for her, being a woman in a man's world, he knew. Always trying to outdo the rest of them and being frustrated when they fussed over her. She just didn't _get_ it. They didn't do it because they thought that she couldn't hold her own, or anything like that. They just loved her. It was as simple as that.

He had not even wanted to accept her demand to spar this afternoon. But she had insisted and and he had relented, determined to give it all he had. In the end, she had beaten him fair and square. So she had her victory. And, somewhere between the bruised ego and the sore tail bone, Allan was secretly glad for her.

The End


End file.
